


Girl That You Love

by isthislove



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Break Up, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Genderswap, Heterosexual Sex, Sexual Content, This is DUMB, What is character development, famous!Liam, famous!harry, girl!Louis, girl!Zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2017-12-31 12:46:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isthislove/pseuds/isthislove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“We were good together. Everyone said so. I think they meant it. Do you?”</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Harry and Louis break up, but it's difficult for Harry to wrap his mind around the concept of <i>forever</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Girl That You Love

**Author's Note:**

> So I've recently started reading fanfic with genderswapping and never thought I'd like it, but it's sort of fun so I thought, 'Why not try it myself?'. I've been stuck in another one of my museless ruts so hopefully this kickstarts something and I can actually start finishing up my other stories?? But anyway, for those of you who are not interested in reading het sex, this story is not for you, as the relationships in this are all heterosexual. 
> 
> Seriously, I lost steam by the end so it pretty much goes from shitty to shittier. I apparently have yet to grasp the proper usage of commas. :)
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Obviously none of this true and I own nothing. Don't be passing it around, please. Basically, it's gotten to the point where I use 1D for their physical traits (does that make sense??) more than anything else. It's all good fun.

“Love, you're burning. Have you got sunscreen on?”

Harry frowns at the sight of his girlfriend's back, which has become an expanse of reddened flesh that will surely begin to hurt in the next couple of hours. He can imagine Louis' whines already, and the high-pitched squeals she'll emit when he tries to rub lotion onto her. He'd _told_ her before they even stepped foot onto the boat to make sure she was being careful about her skin but Louis'd just laughed and – like always – asked if he thought she was an idiot. 

“Yes, I'm fine, _mum_ ,” Louis shoots back, not even bothering to look at Harry. 

She's been standing at the railing for at least an hour now, bent over slightly as she watches the water lap the sides of the yacht. Zayn's been at her side nearly the entire time, silent unless laughing at something Louis says. They make a lovely sight, Harry must admit. It might be a bit pervy, but their bikini bottoms don't leave much to the imagination and they're both standing so that their arses stick out a bit. He can't really be blamed for looking, can he? Louis' got a fantastic arse. 

“Beer?” 

Harry looks up and smiles at Liam, who's looming over him with a bottle in each hand. He nods and takes the drink gratefully, twisting the cap off with practiced ease. He's already had quite a few beers already and is in that fuzzy, sated state of being that seems fitting for their current setting. It's around three o'clock now and they've been out on the boat for a couple of hours, but time seems to be moving slower than normal out in the Florida heat.

“Lou's burning,” Liam points out once he's seated in the plastic beach chair next to Harry. 

Harry exhales loudly through his nose. “Yeah, I've told her. She doesn't care.”

“Not surprised,” Liam quips before bringing his bottle to his lips. 

They fall into a comfortable silence after that, both just watching their girls chat idly across the deck from them. Harry knows without a doubt that Liam's looking at Zayn, taking in the way her black strapless bikini fits snugly on her thin, willowy figure and how her jet black hair brushes her shoulders in a high ponytail. She's all loose limbs and fluid, purposeful movements. She's beautiful, radiant in a subdued sort of way that outshines the other beauty around her.

Louis is a stark contrast to her best friend. She's shorter and curvier, fills out her baby blue bikini a little more. She has her light brown hair down and it's nearly at the small of her back, slightly tangled but still straight from having been meticulously flat-ironed that morning. Her eyes are hidden behind a pair of aviators but it's clear that she's laughing, her slim shoulders shaking with glee. She's quicker to action and a little less agile than Zayn, but exudes unrestrained exuberance in all that she does. 

Harry loves her, has always loved her. 

“Oi, where's mine, then?” Zayn asks as she plops into Liam's lap and reaches for the bottle in Liam's hand.

“In the cooler, babe,” Liam replies, holding the bottle away from her. “You can get your own.”

Zayn sighs like it's an absolutely exhausting task but gets up anyway. Whereas Harry will jump to fulfill nearly all of Louis' demands, Liam is far less inclined to cater to Zayn's every desire and Zayn seems to prefer it that way. Both Liam and Harry watch as she practically glides across the deck and disappears down the steps to the cabin. She walks with a swing in her narrow hips, fully aware that she's being watched. Harry and Liam only tear their eyes away when they hear an amused snort. 

Louis is facing them now, leaning back with her elbows on the railing. Her lips are tilted up in a knowing smirk. Harry would feel ashamed for so blatantly eyeing Zayn but Louis has a habit of checking out Liam's abs every time they're on display so it's a compromise, he reckons. After a few more moments of just studying them, Louis pushes herself away from the railing and then saunters her way toward them. She doesn't have to deliberately strut, that's just the way she walks. And it drives Harry _crazy_.

“Well?” she asks as she comes to stand over Harry, one hip cocked. “Are you going to make me get my own, too?”

It's Harry's turn to sigh deeply and do as he's told. He heads down the steep stairs into the cabin, nearly running into Zayn at the bottom. She has four Coronas clasped in her hands and passes him two. As they turn to head back up, Zayn presses one of the cold bottles against the skin of Harry's naked back, making him squeak in surprise. She laughs, lips parted to reveal perfectly white teeth. Harry grunts and throws an arm around her waist, tugging her toward him so he can retaliate by pressing a bottle against her neck. They'd probably look suspicious to an unknowing eye, but the four of them are all so close that it doesn't mean anything.

“You're such a twat,” Zayn chokes out once she's free from his grip, lips pouted in mock disgruntlement. “I don't understand what Lou sees in you.”

Harry just shrugs and smiles impishly as he leads them back up to the main deck.

*****

Back at the hotel, Louis stretches out on the massive king-sized bed in her bikini and just watches as Harry dances shirtless around the suite, singing along to the radio at the top of his lungs. It's a blessed free day between concerts and he wants to take full advantage of it. He knows that next door Liam is also enjoying the time off, most likely laughing over shitty American telly with Zayn snuggled up to his side. They're the calm couple, the foil to Harry and Louis who are far more flamboyant in everything they do. It works out beautifully.

“Babe, you'll get a noise complaint,” Louis chides, no actual sternness in her voice.

Harry grins at her, raises an eyebrow. “Nah, the walls here are thick.”

Louis smirks back. “Oh, I know. We tested them out quite extensively last night if you remember.”

“How could I forget?”

They're also the horniest couple out of the two, probably, even though they've both heard Liam and Zayn go at it enough times to know that they've got a healthy sex life. But Harry and Louis are more open about it, less prone to being discreet about what happens in the privacy of their bedroom (and kitchen and living room and bathroom and -). That's just the way they are about most things. They don't like hiding anything from each other and whenever either of them tries, they end up fighting and that is never a pretty scene to witness. So they try to uphold themselves to the rule that they are honest with each other no matter what. 

“Come rub aloe on me,” Louis demands after a while, stretching out her arms so she's face down and starfished on the bed.

Harry doesn't even make a pretense of complaining, just grabs the bottle off the desk and heads over. He takes a seat at the edge of the bed and squirts some of the lotion in his hand before starting to rub it into Louis' tender back. Her groans are muffled by the duvet and Harry would be turned on by the noises she's making if it weren't for the fact that she's making them out of pain. He keeps rubbing until every inch of her overheated back is glistening with lotion, then stretches out on his stomach next to her. 

“I told you to cover up,” he murmurs, reaching out and grabbing her hand to interlock their fingers.

“Shut up,” Louis grumbles, twisting her head so she can look at him. “You have to be nice to me.”

“Yeah, I do, don't I?” Harry says softly in reply, smiling dopily at her.

Louis tries to keep a disapproving look on her face but eventually crumbles, giggling at the way her boy is just grinning at her. She pulls her hand out of his and pushes his fringe out of his eyes, combing her fingers through his tousled curls. Harry just closes his eyes and steadies his breathing, letting himself revel in the gentleness of Louis' ministrations. She never seems to settle down long enough for moments like this one to occur often. Slow and unhurried isn't Louis' M.O. Harry might be the over-scheduled, constantly-traveling pop star in the relationship but Louis is the one who always seems to be buzzing with energy and constantly on the move.

“I fly back home tomorrow,” Louis whispers after a few more minutes of silence. 

Harry says nothing, just buries his head in the duvet as if it'll hide him from reality. Louis laughs but it's soft and fond. She knows she'll elicit this reaction from him any time she mentions them parting; sometimes he thinks she just does it to make sure he still dreads her departure and doesn't want her to go, which is dumb since he never wants her to leave and she should already be fully aware of that. Louis' hand drops away from his hair and he grumbles in disappointment.

“Tour's over in a couple of weeks, you'll survive,” she continues. “It's Liam I worry about, you know how attached he is to Zee.”

Harry nods but really, all he can think is that she should be worried about _him_ , because _he's_ the one who's overly attached. Everyone on the crew makes fun of him for it, for eagerly awaiting phone calls from Louis and carrying around a folded photo of her in his pocket on stage. It's just that he's _gone_ for her and it's hard for him to hide it. He's never been good at masking his true emotions.

He doesn't like to think of himself as codependent but he might be just a little.

“We're going out tonight, are you excited?” Louis asks next. 

Louis loves clubbing. Before Harry and Liam came into the picture, she and Zayn used to go out every weekend to their favorite clubs, slipping in ahead of the line because the bouncers were fond of them. Even now the two of them have a reputation in that scene for being a bit wild. Nowadays, Louis mostly just stays home or goes out with friends for a couple of drinks at a restaurant. Harry would never demand that she not go somewhere, but it does give him some comfort knowing that she's not out dancing under the bright lights of some club while he's across the ocean from her. 

“Yeah, should be fun,” Harry replies noncommittally, closing his eyes. 

Louis prods him in the shoulder with a sharp nail. “Hey. Pay attention to me.”

Harry groans and rolls onto his back. “You're a menace.”

But that's what he loves about her. 

The first time they'd met was three years ago at some exclusive party at one of the most opulent hotels in London. The event had been for some fashion designer's new launch and Harry'd showed up because some of his friends were models for the line. Harry had spotted Louis almost immediately. She was dressed in a red strapless gown that draped over her curvy frame like a second skin and her hair had been done up in an intricate up-do. When he'd first laid eyes on her, she'd been laughing with her head tipped back, eyes scrunched in mirth. Although he tried not to think too hard about her as he socialized, he was undoubtedly distracted by any glimpse he caught of her. 

As it turned out, Louis had been the date of Niall Horan, a solo artist whose fame had started rising around the same time as Harry and Liam's. But instead of making himself known through the X Factor like Harry and Liam, he'd been discovered at the age of eighteen in some pub where he'd been performing a few songs with his guitar. Harry would learn later on that Louis was a good childhood friend of Niall's and had agreed to accompany him as his date for the night. Contrary to Harry's assumption, Louis was not at all famous, but an everyday uni student studying drama. 

He'd broken down halfway through the night and under the pretense of congratulating Niall on a recent award, approached the two. And eventually he'd been introduced to the girl, nameless but unforgettable, the type of beauty that could be a potential muse for future song lyrics (even then it'd all felt a bit like a movie, unreal and predictable and cheesy). As they chatted, she'd smiled at him with a glint in her eyes that told him she knew exactly what he was thinking. Maybe she had. Either way, he'd exchanged numbers with Niall and promised to get together in the future. 

They had, of course, and as they say - the rest was history. He and Louis had fallen together rather quickly, but it only really shocked his fans and the public. Their friends and family had been pushing the possibility of them seriously dating since practically the first time they'd even looked at each other, it seemed. So it was no surprise that they made it official a couple months after they first met. Then Louis had introduced Liam to Zayn, her uni roommate, and that, too, became a thing.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Louis mumbles, crawling a little bit closer. “I didn't upset you, did I?”

Harry chuckles weakly and runs his hands down his face. He's not upset, per se, but he doesn't like being reminded that it seems like he and Louis spend more time apart than together. She's stuck in London because of her job teaching and Harry's always traveling or recording or just _busy_. It's an understanding they'd come to early on, Harry having warned her that he wasn't going to be around as much as either of them wanted, and that was just the reality of it. They've been together nearly three years now but Louis still goes on without complaint.

“No, love, I'm not upset.” Harry closes his eyes again. “I'll just miss you, is all.”

Louis huffs out a laugh that a stranger might find unsympathetic but Harry knows is Louis' way of hiding her own unhappiness.

“You'll come back home then get sick of me and wish you were on tour again.”

“Never,” Harry replies, opening his eyes and meeting Louis' with what he hopes is a look of sincerity. “That will never happen.”

Louis holds his gaze for a little longer before sighing and pushing herself up to her knees. Harry's just about to ask her if she's alright when she abruptly throws one leg over and straddles him. She's raised up on her knees so that they're not making any contact, but he can feel the heat of her. He itches to reach out and touch but she's looking down at him with a stony expression that he recognizes as determination. She gets like this when he starts annoying her. He knows what's coming next.

“I want you to stop being so soppy,” she says, leaning forward to place both hands on his bare chest. “Can you do that for me?”

“Maybe,” Harry says, raising an eyebrow. “What will I get out of it?”

Louis rolls her eyes, tosses her hair out of her face with a practiced flick of her head. She's gorgeous like this, nearly naked and on top of him with no shame, comfortable baring herself to him. 

“What do you think you'll get?”

“A great round of sex?”

Louis smirks, leans forward all the way until their lips are centimeters apart. She teases him for a bit, avoiding him as he tries to kiss her. She's coy, always so coy, and it drives him mad in the best way. Eventually he gets his lips on her, immediately deepening it so that their tongues slide together, hot and wet. He still aches to feel her skin on his, but she's stubbornly refusing to lower herself any further to close the gap between their bodies. It's only when he reaches down and runs his fingers lightly along the center of her bikini bottoms that she finally breaks down and lowers her hips. They grind together through their layers of clothing, both breathing heavily already.

“Take off your trousers,” Louis gasps as she rolls off of him, wincing when her back hits the mattress.

“You'll have to ride me, you know,” Harry says as he unbuttons his jeans and begins to slide them down his legs. “You won't be able to lie on your back.”

“Or you can fuck me from behind so I don't have to put all the effort into it,” Louis bites back, getting back on her knees once she sheds her bottoms. “But I suppose we can come to an agreement.”

Harry chuckles as he rids himself of his pants, tossing them off to the side and onto the floor. The bed is so big and the white duvet is so fluffy that it feels like he's on a cloud. Fucking on a cloud sounds rather nice, actually.

“Can you sucking my cock be a part of the agreement?” Harry asks as Louis takes up her previous position above him. “I've rubbed lotion onto your back like five times, after all.”

Louis purses her lips in thought and runs her hands along his chest. “You _have_ been a good boy for me today.”

Without another word she shimmies her way down until she's lying between his spread legs. From his vantage point he's almost eye-level with her but if he props himself up on his elbows he can see all of her, her burnt back and the dimples at the base of her spine and her round arse. 

“Lie back, love,” Louis murmurs, reaching out to run one finger along the underside of his cock.

He gasps, falls back. “You're going to be a tease, aren't you?”

Louis doesn't reply but moments later he feels the slick heat of her tongue swirling around his tip, the roughness of her tongue electric against his sensitive flesh. She does that for what seems like an hour, never fully taking him into her mouth. She licks up the underside and laps at his balls but never gets to the part that he's practically dying for. He wants to reach down and physically direct her but he knows that the wait is what makes everything more pleasurable. Plus, Louis doesn't like him grabbing at her hair unless she expressly asks for it.

He lets out an unabashed groan when she finally lowers her mouth onto him, hollowing her cheeks as she goes down. Her hands are gripping his thighs, no need to touch his cock because she has enough experience with it – and many other cocks, as much as he'd like to think otherwise – to know how to use her mouth. He's not small by any means, but she takes him all regardless, only gagging a bit when he hits the back of her throat. Once she's got him down she speeds up, bobbing her head with a smooth, practiced rhythm that has him tensing up and curling his toes. It's only when he's close, so close, that she pulls away.

She moves up his body until she's straddling him again, then lowers herself down until she's sitting on his stomach. The feel of her against him, bare and wet, is almost enough to make him lose his bloody mind. She moves her hips in little figure eights and he groans again, throwing an arm over his eyes. He hears Louis laugh hoarsely above him, clearly finding humor in his inability to keep himself together.

“You're not even inside me yet and you're falling apart,” she rasps out. “You going weak on me, Styles?”

Harry lets his arm drop away so he can glare at her, eyes narrowing into pleasure when she starts sliding her hips up and down, rubbing herself against him and leaving a wet patch below his bellybutton. She lets out an airy moan when he reaches down and flicks a finger against her, dangerously close to her clit. She bites down on her lip, gives him a challenging look. He doesn't have the sort of willpower that she does, can't tease for very long, so he makes sure that he hits her clit the second time, making her arch forward. 

“Why've you got your top on still?” Harry asks, running two fingers between her folds and stopping them so they trap her clit between them. 

Louis takes the hardly subtle hint, reaching behind her and untying the bikini top before pulling it over her head and flinging it off. She puts her hands back on his chest, then tilts her head back and shakes it, making her hair swish behind her. Harry finds himself staring shamelessly at her, at the way her lips are parted slightly and her arms are squeezing her breasts together. He strains upward, puts one large hand on the back of her neck and pulls her down so they're nose-to-nose. Their lips come together into a slow slide, just like the way she's rubbing against him.

“As much as I enjoy this, I really need you to fuck me,” Louis mumbles as she pulls away. 

Harry grins, takes a hold of her hips and lifts her easily. She grabs onto his wrists, moans at the way he can move her around. He bends his knees slightly, enough so that she can lean back and put her hands on his kneecaps for support. He grabs his prick and nudges it against her opening, marveling at how hard he is and how wet she is. She's leaning back and her eyes are on him, quiet for once as she just watches him. Sometimes she does this, just lets him ogle her like she's the Hope Diamond. She whines low in her throat when he finally pushes in slightly.

“Fuck,” Harry grits out as he inches in, wanting so badly to just shove all the way in but knowing that it'll be more enjoyable if he takes it slow.

Above him, Louis has her head thrown back and eyes closed as he lowers her down. She's not saying anything or making any noises but it's only a matter of time before she starts getting vocal and absolutely _filthy_. Harry's never fucked anyone as dirty-mouthed as Louis. Sometimes he wants to put a hand over her mouth when she gets especially loud, knowing there are people around them who could hear. As hot as it is to know that there are people who might be listening, he still feels a flare of jealousy at the thought of someone getting off to Louis' noises. Those are for _his_ ears. 

“I feel so full,” Louis murmurs, opening her eyes and looking down at Harry, who just grins back.

“Full on porn star mode this evening?” Harry asks, quirking an eyebrow. “You don't need to flatter me, I already know I'm quite talented.”

He says it to piss her off and it does; her nose scrunches up in disbelief and she presses her nails into his knees making him whimper in pain. He's all the way inside now, waiting for her to take over. She sits there for a little longer, just rotating her hips in small circles, taking in the way he feels inside of her. It gets to be too much so Harry grabs the underside of her thighs and pushes her up until only the tip of his cock is inside of her before letting her drop back down. She arches her back further, letting out a long moan that goes up an octave at the end. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Louis chants, her fingers tightening around his knees as he keeps pushing her up and then dropping her down. 

Harry can feel sweat beading along his hairline as he strains to lift her, and despite her diminutive size, his muscles still burn from the exertion. But it's all worth it because the way she's gasps every time he plunges especially deep into her and the way she feels so tight around him are so unimaginably hot. Light-headed, he reaches out and places a palm against the smooth skin below her bellybutton, wondering if he can feel himself moving in and out.

“Christ, Lou,” he mumbles.

He releases her hips and she gets the message, lifting herself up slightly on her knees and folding herself forward so they're chest to chest. She shoves her fingers into his hair and tugs as he grabs her hips again, pressing his fingers roughly into her skin. She lets out her loudest moan yet as he starts thrusting up into her, setting a brutal pace from the get-go. She struggles to keep herself upright so he supports her by the hips, holding her up as he hammers into her at a speed that he didn't even know he was capable of. The sound of skin on skin is nearly obscene.

“That feel good, babe?” he asks, breathless. “Do you like that?”

She whines and lifts her head to press a hot kiss against his neck, mouthing at his skin as he keeps pounding into her. At some point he gets tired so she obediently lifts herself off and gets on her knees, grabbing onto the headboard for support as he slides back into her. He's slower this time, fucking into her at a steady pace that isn't quite as rushed. The heat coiling in his belly is almost excruciating and he wants to come so badly, but first he wants to make sure she gets off. He reaches down, running his hand along her damp stomach until he can feel her clit, hard and protruding underneath his fingertips. At the first touch she curls inward a little, the pleasure nearly too much for her senses.

“God, yes,” she breathes out, dropping her head. “I need to come, Harry. Please, please, please.”

He listens to her, of course, and begins rubbing at her fiercely, a bit scared that he might hurt her but not slowing down. He looks up and sees that her knuckles are white around the headboard as she holds on. She's making the sweetest noises, little grunts at every slam of his hips. He can feel her begin to shiver, then speeds up the movement of his fingers. Soon after she lets out a loud wail and starts shaking, dropping down onto the mattress as her arms go weak. He falls off the edge soon after, leaning all the way down to bite at her shoulder as he freezes deep inside of her and hits his climax. 

They eventually roll off of each other and lie there, their harsh breaths the only noise in the room. 

“We forgot a condom again,” Louis comments several minutes later.

Harry chuckles, flips onto his side so he can wrap an arm around her and pull her close. Lazily, he leans close enough to flick his tongue out and kitten lick one of her nipples. She twists away, huffing out a breath of indignation.

“Well, good thing you're on the pill, then.”

*****

The club is nothing special, just another overheated, overcrowded establishment with overpriced drinks. Harry's been to many, many clubs in his twenty-two years on this planet and he's not at all impressed. How could he be, honestly, when he's been an international pop star for the last four years and he's been to nearly every continent? Nothing is all that glamorous or novel anymore. However, Louis is jittery with joy next to him at the bar, blue eyes bright with glee, and he can't really find it in himself to be all that disgruntled with the current situation. Plus, Zayn and Liam are out on the dance floor making a scene and it's good for some laughs.

“Should I order something new?” Louis asks, scanning the drink list the bartender had eagerly handed her (Harry had given him a warning look). “I always get the same thing.”

“Get whatever you want, love,” Harry says, distracted. 

Harry had called up a couple of American friends to invite them out for a catch-up, and they're nearly at the club, according to their texts. He looks around the club eagerly, wanting to make sure he sees them when they come through the door. He's excited, honestly, as it's been at least six months since he's really had the chance to see them properly. He'd met Will and Mikayla during the first American tour he and Liam went on, and had kept in touch since. They're the type of people who – despite their age – still act like teenagers, constantly partying and drinking and generally having a good time. Harry loves them even though they get tiring to be around, and he knows that Louis will love them, too.

“Are they almost here?” Louis asks, knocking their elbows together. She has a drink in hand, a martini like always. “I'm expecting a lot, by the way. You've talked them up quite a bit.”

Harry bends down to press a kiss against her temple. “You'll love them. Just don't let them get to you if they try to push you around a bit. They're just … like that.” 

“I'm Louis Tomlinson, nobody pushes me around,” Louis retorts, narrowing her blue eyes.

Harry wants to snog her right then and there but suddenly there's a hand on his shoulder spinning him around. He's met with Will's grinning face, still so familiar after all these months, and he can't help but smile widely back. 

“It's been too long, man!” Will shouts as they pull each other into a tight hug. “Never thought we'd see you again!”

Harry is about to answer but then Mikayla is pushing Will out of the way to get to Harry. She's as beautiful as always, something that Harry would readily admit because it's true. She's tall and model-thin with a platinum blonde bob that brushes her bony shoulders, and she just looks immaculate at all times. She's not beautiful in the way actresses are beautiful, but she's sharp angles and sly eyes and coquettish mouth. He'd known Mikayla back before he'd ever met Louis and they would hook up when he was in the states, but after Louis' arrival into his life, he'd ended it, of course.

“Look at you, handsome,” Mikayla crows, flinging her arms around Harry and pulling him in close. “You're taller than me, now!”

“I've always been,” Harry says as he pulls away, trying to sound offended but giving himself away with a smile. 

He only remembers when he feels a hand press itself flat against the small of his back that introductions need to be made. He spins around and throws an arm around Louis' waist, pulling her into his side so that Will and Mikayla can see her. He looks down at her and can't help but grin because she's stunning in her tight red jeans and loose blouse and heels. She's a little bit fierce, too, in the way she runs her eyes over the two newcomers. She's smiling wolfishly, but that's just the way she is – overbearing and constantly trying to get the upper hand. Harry doesn't miss the way Mikayla sweeps her eyes over the shorter girl, glossy lips tilted up into an enigmatic curve.

Harry tightens his arm around Louis. “Will, Mikayla, this is Louis.”

They exchange pleasant – if not formal – introductions, then find a booth to sit in. Harry is buzzing with happiness, thrilled to see his friends and to swap stories and – he's just very _pleased_ to see them, to put it simply. Louis is uncharacteristically quiet beside him but he knows that she's just taking everything in, listening in to the conversation so she can gauge what type of people Will and Mikayla are. She might be boisterous and unrestrained most of the time, but she's not clueless about the things going on around her. She sees more than one would think.

When Louis finally speaks, she asks, “So, how'd you all meet?”

Will breaks into a smile, glances at Mikayla. “Mikayla and I practically grew up together. We moved to L.A. when we were eighteen to 'find ourselves' and we ended up getting our own radio show, since we mesh so well and are apparently funny. At some point we started getting big in the music scene.”

“That's how we met Harry,” Mikayla cuts in, tilting her head as she smiles fondly at him. “He and Liam came on our show. We've been friends ever since.”

Louis nods but says nothing, just chewing on her bottom lip with an inscrutable expression. 

The night goes on with Will, Mikayla and Harry catching up, reminiscing about the first time they'd met and their subsequent adventures. They've all had several drinks by then and Harry feels loose and content, one arm draped across Louis' shoulders. She's reserved compared to her usual self but she still laughs and makes comments here and there, genuinely curious about certain things. Everything is going wonderfully until Mikayla gets a mischievous little grin on her face.

Eyes focused on Harry, she says, “Remember that time we almost got caught on your tour bus?”

Harry's confused at first, then feels a surge of apprehension when he realizes what she's alluding to. Even Will looks uncomfortable all of a sudden. Harry feels Louis tense up under his arm and he wants to rewind time, go back a few minutes so he can stop this from happening. He knows that realistically Louis has no reason to be angry since he and Mikayla had fooled around before Louis was ever a fixture in his life, but he knows Louis well enough to know that she'll feel jealous and threatened anyway. 

“Yeah, wow, that was a long time ago,” Harry says, chuckling weakly. 

“This sounds interesting,” Louis pipes up, voice light and deceiving. “Do tell, Mikayla.”

Mikayla hesitates only a moment before shrugging nonchalantly. Harry wants to get up and drag Louis away, stop this from happening. But he doesn't want to make this into a bigger deal than it actually is. He wants Louis to see that he's not at all flustered because that means he's unaffected. And being unaffected means that the story Mikayla is about to tell means nothing to him.

“Harry and I were in his bunk, right, doing – well, I don't think I need to explain – and all of a sudden the entire crew, it seemed like, started getting back on the bus.” Mikayla laughs. “We panicked, tried to put our clothes back on but we couldn't find my bra in time so Harry hid me under his blanket until the coast was clear.”

There's silence after Mikayla's done speaking. Harry forces out a laugh, desperate to diffuse the awkwardness. He doesn't want to look at Louis and see what her facial expression is. Will is changing the subject next, bringing up a story about some rockstar who'd showed up to their radio station completely smashed for his interview, but Harry can't concentrate. He's only attuned to Louis, waiting for a movement or a comment or – anything. 

After the rockstar story is over, Louis finally speaks.

“I'm rather tired, I think I'm going to head back to the hotel.”

She looks at Harry expectantly and he just stares back for a few moments before he understands what she's asking for and slides out of the booth. She gets to her feet quickly, slinging her purse over her shoulder, and she makes even that insignificant movement look cross. She turns to face the table and smiles tightly (Harry has never seen her pretend so badly). 

“Sorry about running off, but I'm exhausted,” she says.

Mikayla smiles wide at her, and then looks over at Harry. “You'll stay, right, Harry?”

And there it is, the choice. He looks up at Louis and she's looking back down at him, lips set in a thin line and blue eyes guarded. Mikayla is still grinning knowingly at him and Will is looking at his beer bottle like it's the most fascinating object he's ever encountered. The thing is, Harry wants to stay. Even though Mikayla is a bit of a twat for bringing up their past, he still wants to spend time with the two. That'd been the plan from the beginning, hadn't it? And it's not even midnight.

He doesn't look at Louis when he replies, “Um, yeah. I'll stay for a bit longer.” 

When he finally glances up at Louis, he sees that she's gone.

*****

He gets back to the room at two o'clock in the morning, drunk enough that he stumbles a bit as he comes through the door. Louis is a lump beneath the duvet and he assumes she's asleep until she sits up and flicks on the bedside lamp. Her hair is a mess and she has make-up smudged around her eyes like she hadn't even bothered to wash up after coming home from the club. She's still so lovely, though, and Harry wants to crawl into bed with her and go for round two. Except Louis is glowering at him.

“Have fun, then?” she asks, tone clipped. 

Harry sighs as he grabs onto the desk and starts pulling his shoes off. He doesn't want to get into this, not when he's drunk, but he knows Louis won't let it go. She's impatient and edgy when it comes to arguments, choosing to let it all out instead of holding it in the way Harry chooses to most of the time. 

“Lou, not tonight,” he grumbles, finally prying the second shoe off his foot.

“I'm leaving tomorrow! Or have you forgotten that?”

Harry rolls his eyes and ignores the question.

“Harry! Look at me!” 

Louis is talking too loud so Harry immediately spins around and shushes her, index finger to his lips. Which is a terrible, terrible mistake. It's like a tangible dark cloud appears over Louis as her expression changes from irritated to downright angry.

“Don't you fucking do that,” she hisses, throwing the covers off and getting to her feet. “You've been a prick all night!”

“ _Me_?” Harry replies, bewildered. “You're the one who left like a little brat!”

Second mistake.

“Are you – I can't believe you!” Louis crosses her arms tightly over her chest. “How'd you think I felt, having to listen to that slag talk about fucking you? And right in front of me? I was bloody uncomfortable, Harry!”

“That all happened before you ever came into my life!” Harry counters, feeling frustration bubble up in his stomach like acid. Or maybe it's the alcohol. “You have no reason to be jealous or – or anything! It's not like I fucked her when we were together!”

Louis doesn't say anything to that, just drops her head so that he can no longer see her eyes. He thinks he sees her bottom lip quiver but the combination of alcohol and indignation rushing through him prevents him from really stopping to consider the fact that she might actually be hurt.

“I know that you're competitive and you don't like anyone challenging you, but you've got to back off sometimes,” Harry continues. “You know perfectly well that I had a life before you and you're not the only person I've been with. You get that, right?”

He doesn't mean to come off so harsh. The sober version of him would be absolutely appalled at the way he's treating his girlfriend, but he's just so - _annoyed_ and he already has enough pressure in his life, he doesn't need Louis adding to it.

“Yes, I get that,” Louis says, oddly vulnerable. “It just … it felt like she was trying to be nasty. Like she wanted me to know that she had you first.”

“Oh, come off it,” Harry groans. “You're being ridiculously insecure right now, and it's a bit pathetic.”

And that is the final mistake.

Louis snaps her head up, looks at him not with rage but with disbelief, which morphs into hurt. He has never seen her look that way before – at least not because of something he's done - and even in his intoxicated state he knows he's fucked up badly.

“Shit, Lou.”

He tries to go to her, to apologize in some way, but she sidesteps him deftly and makes a beeline to her suitcase, which is already packed and ready to go next to the door. She's in a pair of joggers and a thin, cropped tank top but she doesn't seem to even care that she's not dressed to be seen out in public. She shoves her feet into a pair of hotel slippers before grabbing the doorknob.

“Wait, fuck, I'm sorry!” Harry says, frantic. “I didn't mean that. You know I don't think you're pathetic, babe.”

Louis already has the door open by then, but she stops long enough to face Harry. 

“We're _done_ ,” she snarls. “I hope you're fucking happy.”

And then she's gone, slamming the door behind her.

*****

He doesn't sleep at all after Louis storms out, just sits on the floor beside the bed and alternates between blanking out and crying. He finds out from Liam – who comes to check on him around seven – that Louis had stayed in their room after the fight. She'd been subdued and dry-eyed, which had worried Liam and Zayn the most. Zayn had ended up calling the airline to schedule an earlier departure flight and they'd flown out around six. If Harry'd thought that the guilt couldn't get any stronger, he'd been wrong, so wrong.

“Lou told Zayn everything,” Liam says, reaching out to squeeze Harry's knee. “That was shitty of you to say to her, even if she _was_ acting immature about the Mikayla thing.”

“I know,” Harry chokes out, letting his forehead come to rest against his bent knees. He's so sober now. “I hate myself for it. Shit, Li, what am I going to do? I can't fly back to London until the tour's over and I've already tried calling her multiple times. I can't lose her but I don't know what to do!”

Liam is silent for a long time before he says, “I'll talk to Zayn, but … you might just have to let this be for now. Louis' the most stubborn person I've ever met. This isn't going to get fixed in a day.”

If it gets fixed at all.

*****

By the time their plane hits the tarmac at Heathrow, it's been two weeks since Harry's spoken to Louis and he's at the brink of losing his mind. She hasn't returned any of his calls or texts, and Zayn refuses to help him in any way. The only piece of information Liam's managed to get out of his girlfriend is that Louis' staying with Niall. And sure enough, when Harry comes home he finds the flat devoid of Louis' belongings. It's the final punch to the chest, the kick in the gut that leaves him in the middle of the living room with tears running down his face. He feels weak and pitiful. He hasn't ever gotten into a real fight like this with Louis in the three years they've been together and he's … lost.

He goes to Niall's the next day but Niall doesn't even entertain him for a minute, just opens the door and tells him to fuck off before slamming it closed in his face. Zayn is no easier to crack, staunchly refusing to help Harry out in any way and only allowing him into her and Liam's flat when Liam practically begs her. She never calls Harry out on what he'd done to her best friend, but blatantly ignores him instead, which is worse. Even his own mum is angry at him – or disappointed, as she'd said – and just tells him to fix the mess he'd made. He doesn't even want to _imagine_ what Louis' mum must think about him at the moment.

The media has already picked up on their relationship troubles; tabloids feature photos of Louis leaving Niall's flat or snapshots of a haggard, tired-looking Harry on their front covers. Speculation blows up nearly all social media sites and he can't go anywhere without someone asking him what's happening between him and Louis. He's gotten so many tweets from fans congratulating him on 'his new single status' and celebrating the fact that he no longer has a girlfriend that he just stops checking Twitter all together. Everything seems to be giving him a headache these days. He doesn't know what to do.

He sits on the couch a lot, thinking about how he would've handled that night differently and what he'd be doing if things hadn't gone to utter shit. He doesn't have the motivation to make anything for dinner like he usually does when he's home and resorts to take-out nearly every night. Louis' not here, there's no one to cook for. He thinks about her tinkling laugh, the way she flips her fringe out of her eyes, how she pads around the flat in ripped t-shirts and her glasses. He tries to recall the very moment he'd realized that he was in love with her and all he can think of is ocean blue.

He just does a lot of thinking.

*****

“She doesn't want to see him, how difficult is that to understand?”

“Zee, you can't keep doing this!”

“Doing _what_? Protecting my best friend?”

“It's gone beyond that! You're taking your own anger out on Harry. Maybe Louis _does_ want to see him!”

“There's no bloody way she would, he's a fucking arsehole!”

Zayn and Liam's argument has been going on for what seems like an eternity, and frankly, Harry is feeling quite awkward sitting on their couch and listening in. They _have_ to know that he can hear them; Liam may have enough money to live in a spacious house but he refuses to leave the first flat he'd moved into when he turned eighteen and before the X Factor made him famous, so privacy is a bit hard to come by. 

Harry sighs deeply and sinks back into the couch. He'd been spending some much needed bonding time with Liam when Zayn had come home, already agitated for some reason, and the sight of Harry had pushed her off the edge. Harry had never seen her so angry in all the years he'd known her. Liam had to pull her into their bedroom to have a 'cool down chat', but it's obvious that there is no cooling down happening. 

“He called her _pathetic_ , Liam! Who the bloody hell does he think he is?”

“Yes, he cocked that up quite badly but he's sorry! He loves Lou, everyone knows that.”

“You don't say that to someone you love.”

Their voices have finally softened and the rest of the conversation is too low for Harry to hear. He's been feeling like shit the entire week that he's been home, and now he just feels worse. He's been stuck between wanting very, very badly to talk to Louis and being afraid of seeking her out any further. It's clear that he'll never get through the guard dog that is Niall and Zayn is really the only other person who would be able to help. And it's apparent that she's not feeling any warmth toward him at the moment.

“Harry.”

Harry looks up quickly – when had his eyesight gone so blurry? - and sees Zayn standing at the door, arms crossed and lips pursed. He wants to smile at her, show her that he's not a complete dick and isn't holding anything against her, but Zayn's a bit intimidating and her facial expression is emitting subzero levels of hostility. He's afraid of what she might do. 

“She'll be at the gala this weekend.”

Harry blinks once, twice, then opens his mouth to speak. But he doesn't know what to say so he just closes it back up and waits for Zayn to continue.

“She's going with Niall so good luck getting anywhere near her, but I thought I'd let you know in advance so you can think of something to say that won't make you sound like even more of a twat. That is, if you do manage to talk to her.”

Liam appears behind Zayn and shoots Harry a sympathetic frown over her shoulder. Harry gets to his feet, nodding, and then finally ekes out a smile.

“Thanks. Really. I won't mess up this time. Promise.”

Zayn doesn't even budge a millimeter, just keeps staring at Harry like he's a criminal on trial.

“Don't promise _me_ ,” is all she says.

*****

The gala is being held in celebration of some world-renowned artist's new collection of paintings and normally, Harry would've steered clear from such an occasion, but he doesn't even think about not attending after finding out that Louis will be there. He knows that enduring dull conversations about crosscoat techniques and chiaroscuro will be worth it if it means just getting a glimpse of Louis. Which he does, roughly an hour into the reception.

The first thing he notices is that she looks absolutely stunning. She's wearing a navy blue floor length gown with a dramatic, plunging back that's offset by a high collar. It sparkles under the lights, along with what appears to be a hefty diamond bracelet around one slender wrist. When he's finally able to focus on anything other than her appearance, Harry notices several things. First off, she's at Niall's side and Niall has an arm wrapped around her waist. The sight immediately causes a sharp twist in Harry's gut. It's bizarre, seeing her that close to another bloke, good friend of hers or not. Maybe it makes him sound a bit crazy and possessive, but it looks _wrong_ , all wrong. Second, she's laughing joyously at something Niall had said, head thrown back. 

He starts moving before he even fully thinks it through. He slides his way through groups of people sipping champagne and making asinine small talk, eyes trained on the couple (it sounds so _wrong_ to call them a couple). He catches up to them when they stop at the open bar. He hangs back for a few moments, watching as Niall hands Louis a glass of wine. Harry can't help but wonder fleetingly if the wine will be up to Louis' standards; she's known to be quite picky about it. 

Niall is the first one to notice Harry, eyes flickering from surprised to cold within seconds. It's not a good look on him, anger, and Harry can't help but shrink back slightly. Louis seems to have noticed Niall's change in posture and turns to look over her shoulder. Their eyes meet, blue with green, and in that moment, Harry is dumbstruck. Louis looks just as bewildered, but her eyes don't go frigid like Niall's had. She just keeps looking at him with a startled expression, clearly unsure as to what's happening. It's enough to give Harry the courage to breach the space between them.

“Lou,” he says. “Can I speak to you?”

Louis hesitates, glances at Niall quickly before meeting Harry's eyes again. She's confused and conflicted, an uncharacteristic state of mind for her. She's always so sure, always so confident. 

“Um … I -”

“No, she cannot,” Niall snaps, taking a step forward so that he's partly shielding Louis from Harry. “How about you run along, yeah?”

Harry tenses his jaw, holding back the rude words he'd like to say to the other man. He understands that Niall's just trying to protect Louis, but he doesn't like the way Niall still has his arm curled around Louis' waist like she belongs to him. It rubs him the wrong way, makes him suspect that there's more than just taking a friend as a plus one going on.

“Louis can speak for herself,” Harry bites back. 

Louis steps out of Niall's hold and faces him, planting both hands on his chest as she raises herself on her tippy-toes to whisper something in his ear. A combination of emotions pass over Niall's face – anger, confusion, disappointment, resignation – before he nods and backs away from her. He sends Harry one last glacial look before he turns on his heel and walks off. Louis slowly turns around once he's gone, and Harry can feel his heart rate spike in nervousness. He's finally got the chance to talk to Louis and to explain himself, but he's still terrified. What if he fucks things up further? What if she refuses to forgive him?

“Well?” Louis asks, crossing her arms and tilting her chin up.

Harry swallows but his throat is dry and he just ends up coughing a bit.

“Lou, I just – I never - _fuck_. I'm sorry, okay? I never meant anything I said to you that night and I feel like such a massive wanker. I never, ever meant to hurt you.”

“You were drunk, was that it?” Louis retorts immediately. “Because you've never treated me that way before, drunk or otherwise.”

“I – I don't know what was going through my head, I really don't.” Harry starts chewing on his bottom lip, tearing through the skin. “I'm just so, so sorry.”

Louis says nothing for a while, just fiddles with the diamond bracelet on her wrist. It must've been expensive, Harry thinks. He wonders when and where she'd gotten it, because she certainly hadn't had it when they were together. Louis has never been one to accept overly lavish gifts or buy frivolous items for herself; it'd always been a battle for Harry whenever he tried to give her nice things. She's just too fucking proud.

“I guess I'm not as angry now. I'm mostly hurt,” Louis admits, twirling the bracelet around and around. “It felt like you were defending _her_ , like she meant more to you than you were letting on. It's okay if you still have … feelings or an attraction to her. That's okay.”

But obviously it's not, because her voice catches and she ducks her head lower. Harry so badly wants to reach out and fold her up into his arms, rest his cheek against her smooth hair. Instead, he chooses to stay where he is. He doesn't want to push the boundaries.

“Lou.” He sighs softly. “Mikayla isn't anything more to me than a friend. You've taken up all the room, you know? You're the only person who means everything to me.”

Louis looks up at that, blue eyes glittering. She quirks up one corner of her mouth in a wry smile.

“You're such a sap, Styles,” she says, shaking her head. “You're also a manipulative little shit.”

Harry laughs, one of those loud cackles that startles half the room. He approaches her then, holding his arms open in invitation. She hesitates briefly before acquiescing, stepping into his embrace and wrapping her arms around his waist. He pulls her into his chest, lowers his head into the nook between her neck and shoulder. She smells the same, like Dior and mint. He could cry, he's so happy.

“I've missed you,” he murmurs against her skin.

She takes a deep, shuddering breath and her chest presses against his.

“I've missed you, too.”

__

*****

He has her up against a wall in his - _their_ \- flat, her slinky dress pushed up and out of the way as he slips inside of her. She lets out a moan and drops her head back against the wall, eyes shut tightly. He starts to slide in and out of her, dragging strokes that are just as unbearable for him as it is for her. Her nails dig into his shoulders, still covered by his suit. They hadn't had the patience to properly get their kit off, just made the minimal necessary adjustments in order to uncover the right parts. She still has her thong hooked around one stiletto, neither of them having bothered to discard it completely.

“I lied,” Louis gasps, lips twisting up into an impish grin. “I just missed your cock.”

Harry groans at that, thrusting into her deeply and pressing her harder against the wall. He starts to snap his hips back and forth faster, teeth gritted in pleasure as she wraps her legs around his waist and does her best to meet his thrusts with her own. She makes all the noise, keening low in her throat as he attaches his lips to her neck, sucking a dark bruise into the skin. It's juvenile, marking her in such a visible spot, but he's been without her for so long that he feels the need to do it, as if it were instinctual.

“Do you want to come?” Harry rasps into her ear, nipping at her earlobe. “Tell me.”

Louis tangles her fingers into his hair, tries to get him as close as physically possible. “Yes, fuck, I want to come so bad.”

He slows down the pace slightly, reaching down to trace a finger around her where she's stretched to accommodate him. She sucks in a harsh breath as he runs his fingers up the sensitive flesh to her clit, running his finger gently across it. She whines, squeezing her legs tighter around him. They're both so desperate to get off, the tension is suffocating, so he quits with the teasing and begins to rub at her in earnest. She lets out the loudest noise yet, a choked scream, as she arches her back off the wall and grips tightly onto him. She comes seconds later, rippling and clenching around his cock so tightly that he can't hold back any longer either. They tremble against each other for several minutes, clutching onto each other for dear life. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles, letting her stand on her own feet.

Louis wobbles a bit on her heels, leaning into him for support. Her hair, once neatly coiffed, is tangled and messy and her make-up is smeared. She smiles at him, soft and sweet, and she's beautiful. He bends down and kisses her. It's when he's pulling back that he gets a glimpse of that diamond bracelet again as it lies halfway down her left forearm. He bites his lip, studies it for a moment before deciding to bring it up.

“That's a nice bracelet,” he says, tone neutral. “Is it new?”

He watches Louis closely, watches as she visibly thinks through her answer. Her eyes are focused in on the bracelet and she reaches over with her other hand to run a finger along the silver, jewel-encrusted band. She looks almost meek when she looks back up at him.

“Niall gave it to me.”

Harry might've already guessed it, as Niall's the only person he knows of in Louis' close circle who has the money to buy something that pricey. But regardless, he tenses up. 

“It's an early birthday present,” Louis continues, blue eyes pleading with him to believe her.

“It's August. Your birthday is in December.” He doesn't even try to hold back the venom in his voice.

Louis starts to gnaw on her lip furiously, a clear sign that she's agitated. She says nothing, just backs away until she's flat against the wall and as far away from him as possible.

“Have you shagged him, then?” Harry asks. “Is that why he wouldn't let me talk to you? Because he thinks you're his now?”

Anger flashes in Louis' eyes. “He doesn't own me. You don't own me. Nobody _owns_ me.”

Harry scoffs. “He had his arm around you like he wanted everyone to know that you belonged to him.”

“ _Stop_.” The distress in her voice is enough to shut him up. She looks genuinely upset, just like she had the night they'd fought. “I'm so tired of – of being a _possession_. Like my job is to look pretty on some celebrity's arm and – and ...”

Louis starts to cry then. She's quiet about it, head bent, but the tears rolling down her cheeks are noticeable. Harry's immediately angry at himself, disgusted that he'd made her cry. Louis never cries. At least, not in front of others. He can't count the number of times he's heard her crying in the shower when she's upset, but he only has to use one hand to count the number of times she's cried in front of him.

“Lou, shit, I'm sorry. Please don't cry.”

He reaches out to her but she slides away from him, stumbling into the living room and dropping onto the couch. He watches as she just sits there, facing the huge glass window that overlooks the city. Her shoulders are trembling but she makes no noise. 

“I didn't shag him,” she says eventually. Her voice is raspy. “He wanted to. He told me that we'd be good together, since we've been close since we were children. But I couldn't.”

Harry stays silent because what can he say? He imagines Niall coming onto her, putting his hands on her and telling her that he's better for her than Harry could ever be. It simultaneously enrages and pains him. He can't imagine how she must've felt. He wonders if maybe she'd actually considered Niall's suggestion. He doesn't want to know, really.

“He gave me the bracelet because he felt bad. He tried to kiss me one night and I told him no, that I was still upset over what happened with you and I think … I think he realized what he was doing. I woke up the next morning and he apologized. He gave me the bracelet, too, and asked me to wear it to the reception. He's still one of my best friends. I still care about him.”

There's a loud clink as Louis drops the bracelet onto the glass coffee table. She's finished crying, it seems, but Harry still can't make his legs move. He'd never realized, honestly, that maybe she hadn't been a hundred percent happy with him, and that their relationship wasn't the fairytale he'd thought it'd been. 

“Do you really feel like that's all you are, a decoration?” he asks. 

Louis doesn't turn around, just stays rigid on the couch.

“Sometimes. One time at an after-party a man from your management team came up to me and said, 'Aren't you lovely? Harry must have to spend a fortune to keep such a pretty little doll.'”

A cold, sick feeling rushes through him and he feels breathless. He sags against the nearest wall; he feels unsteady all of a sudden.

“I'm tired,” Louis says as she gets to her feet. “I'll take the guest room.”

She passes Harry on her way out of the living room, and gives him a small smile but nothing else. No kiss, no hug, no touch of any sort. It feels significant somehow. He stands there against the wall even after the door of the guest room clicks shut and the flat falls silent. He wants to think things through, sort out the situation in his head, but he can't focus on any one particular thought. He doesn't know what to do next, even though the person he's so deeply in love with is just down the hall from him.

*****

The next morning, Harry wakes up oddly disoriented. He blinks up at the ceiling for several minutes, just gathering his scattered thoughts together. He only gets up when he remembers that Louis is in the flat. He has a renewed sense of determination at the thought of her being so close, and he knows that if he tries hard enough, he can convince Louis to stay, to get back together with him. Last night had just been a minor obstacle, something to get over.

The door of the guest room is open and when he looks inside, he sees that the room is empty and the bed is immaculately made. He goes out to the living room next but Louis' not there. She's not in the kitchen. She's not in the bathroom. And it's only when Harry is standing in the foyer of the flat staring at the place on the floor where Louis' purse had once laid that he realizes she's left. Again. It's another punch to the gut when he walks into the living room and sees that Louis made sure to take the bracelet with her.

*****

It gets to the point where Liam shows up at his flat and refuses to leave for five whole days. Harry isn't even moping and is actually doing fairly well at pretending like everything's fine, but Liam is his best friend and he can see right through the act. They spend large chunks of time playing video games or thinking up lyrics for potential songs. They hardly ever leave the couch. Three days into their withdrawal from society, Zayn shows up with enough take-out for a dozen people and leaves it on the coffee table with an eye roll and a heavy sigh. Liam finally leaves after he runs out of clean pants, but Harry suspects that he misses Zayn more than anything. He doesn't blame his best mate; had the roles been reversed, he wouldn't have dreamed of leaving Louis for that long.

It's not even two hours after Liam leaves that Harry sees it. He's on Twitter at first, scrolling through his feed when Louis' name catches his eye. There are multiple hashtags in people's tweets that draw his attention; there's #louisniall2013 and #nouissoulmates, among many others. Some people make their excitement even more obvious, tweeting comments like: _Louis and Niall are so cute together!!!!_ and _Louis definitely looks way happier with Niall._ Harry doesn't want to know any more and is literally terrified of what he might find, but he breaks down and clicks onto the first entertainment news site he can think of. He closes his eyes for several seconds before opening them to look.

Right there on the screen is a picture of Louis and Niall walking down Oxford Street. Louis has her hand tucked into Niall's elbow and they're pressed close together. Niall looks absolutely ecstatic, bright white teeth showing as he grins and cheeks flushed pink. Louis looks happy, too, though not quite as transparently. She has her head bent slightly, caramel brown hair hiding half of her face, but she has a little smile on her face as well. And there's that bracelet, that _fucking diamond bracelet_ around her left wrist. 

Harry spends the rest of the day curled up underneath Louis' favorite red micro-fleece blanket on the couch, flipping through channels mindlessly. Before his break-up with Louis, he'd never considered himself one of those miserable twats who collapse at the first sign of relationship trouble. But back then he'd never imagined him and Louis breaking up either so he's not all that surprised when he manages to eat an entire tin of chocolate McVities within thirty minutes while simultaneously squeezing out a few angry tears here and there. Liam calls at one point, clearly having seen the recent news, but not even his voice can comfort Harry. 

To put it simply, he's a mess.

*****

“She's not as happy with him as she makes herself out to be,” Zayn says a week later.

Liam is at Harry's stove, trying his best to make boxed pasta while Harry and Zayn sit at the breakfast bar sipping at their mixed drinks. Zayn's apparently forgiven Harry for his earlier misconduct, although that doesn't mean she's strayed from Louis' side by any means. But Harry can tell that Zayn doesn't approve of Louis and Niall getting together, even though she doesn't say so. She just gets this pinched look on her face that gives her away.

“This might be a touchy subject,” Liam says, turning around to face them. “But have they – you know – shagged?”

Harry's heart drops to his stomach like an elevator in free fall. He directs his eyes down at the counter and scrapes his nail against the granite. He misses the glare that Zayn levels at Liam, silently chastising him for bringing that particular point up in front of Harry.

“Well,” Zayn begins. She says that one simple word too slowly. Harry can already predict what she'll say next. “As far as I know they've done it … twice? But that's it.”

_But that's it._

Nobody says anything for a long while, the sound of Liam rhythmically scraping at the bottom of a pot taking the place of conversation. Harry tries to focus on anything but the thought of Louis and Niall fucking but the harder he tries, the faster he fails. All he can think about after a while is Louis writhing underneath Niall in pleasure, scratching her nails down his back as she – 

Harry takes a deep breath. “I've got to get over her eventually, yeah?”

“Harry.” Zayn hasn't said his name so sweetly in weeks and it sounds strange. “She still loves you. She just … she's stubborn. She doesn't think anything will change if you two get back together.”

Harry furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “But we were good together, weren't we? Besides that one fight, we got along almost perfectly. What was wrong? What needs to change?”

“Lou's tough, you know that, but she's not invincible.” Zayn lays a slender hand on Harry's arm. “Sometimes she'd see nasty Twitter comments about her not being good enough for you and all that. Then there'd be all those fucking pervy old business men who'd come up to her at your events practically soliciting her for sex. You didn't see how that all took a toll on her. She didn't _want_ you to see.”

And now it makes a little more sense as to why sometimes he'd hear Louis sobbing in the shower, only for her to come out pretending like nothing was wrong. His blood boils at the thought of her feeling uncomfortable at the events he'd take her to all because of some horny old bastards. But then he also feels tremendous guilt because he hadn't really noticed anything. He'd always just assumed that Louis never took any of that hate bullshit seriously. 

“How's that going to change if she dates Niall? He's just as big of a celebrity as I am.”

Zayn's smile is sad. “She doesn't love Niall the way she loves you, though. She loves Niall as a best mate and yeah, he's special to her in a way that nobody else is, but you're the _one_ , you know?”

Harry nods because yeah, he gets it. Louis' the one for him. 

“She's tired, love. She has her teaching job here during part of the year, and then during her vacation she's jetting off to tropical islands or wherever you happen to be touring. I think that at first she was caught up in all the glamor but now, it's like … all the sparkle's faded out. There are always so many people fighting for your attention, for any scrap of you and that's not your fault, but … do you see what I'm saying?”

Harry nods again and chokes out, “Yeah.”

“It's not fair to ask you to change your life when you're at the height of your career,” Liam adds. “But it's not fair to ask her to stay if she doesn't want to, either.”

For some reason Harry can't stop nodding. He's just sitting there bobbing his head up and down for no discernible reason. It's starting to sink in; there's a very good chance that he and Louis will never get back together. It's a daunting realization that has his stomach twisting with panic. He knows quite well that it's not smart to wholeheartedly believe that a relationship will last forever, but he'd really thought that one day he'd marry Louis. They were great when they were together, people had always said so. But maybe they'd all been lying, just saying it to be nice. 

“Do you think it's over, then?” Harry asks quietly. “For good?”

He looks up at Liam and is met with a pair of sad brown eyes. When he turns to look at Zayn, she smiles weakly and pats his arm in what should be a comforting gesture. They don't really have to say anything for Harry to figure out what they think.

*****

_“Did Niall Horan finally pop the question?”_

_“Future wedding bells for indie rocker Niall Horan?”_

_“Whirlwind romance for Niall Horan and childhood sweetheart.”_

*****

He's sitting on the couch post-shower with a towel wrapped around his head when there's a knock at the door. It's either Liam, Zayn, his mum or his sister because nobody else can get past the lobby and the security guard without first getting Harry's permission. But most of the time the aforementioned people just walk into his flat without so much as a knock, so it's with a bit of confusion that he gets up and goes to the door. He makes sure to peek through the peephole just in case; he'd rather not be murdered by some psycho while in his favorite fluffy robe.

It's Louis on the other side of the door. Of course Tom the security guard would still let her up without question; Tom always had a soft spot for Louis, exchanging banter with her each time she passed by in a way that was purely brotherly. She has her head bent down but he can tell it's her, how could he not? She's still a part of him. It's like muscle memory, the way a person can still remember the notes to an instrument long after they've given up playing. She's etched into him permanently. 

Harry eventually swings the door open. “Lou.” 

She looks up at him and smiles. But the smile is feeble and the glow in her eyes is dimmed. She just looks tired, overall. She's wearing a thick green cable-knit sweater that hangs to mid-thigh, and it reminds Harry of all the times she used to steal his shirts so she could wear them around the flat. Her hair is up in a messy bun and she's not wearing any make-up. Her arms are crossed over herself and her shoulders are slightly hunched as if she's cold. It's March now, but London hasn't yet pulled itself out of its winter gloom. And yet, he doesn't think it's the weather.

“Hi,” is all Louis says. 

Harry steps back to let her in. He feels robotic, like his body is disconnected from his mind and he's just moving mechanically. She walks by him but stops in the living room. She turns to look at him and he looks back at her from where he's hovering in the doorway. They're quiet for a long while. Harry hasn't seen her in three months, hasn't talked to her in longer. He'd refused to go to her and Niall's engagement party but he'd run into her a few days later as she was leaving Zayn and Liam's flat. They'd just exchanged quick glances before she stepped into the lift and disappeared from view. 

“Why are you here?” Harry asks when the wait becomes too much.

Louis hesitates and clearly struggles to come up with an answer. She's gnawing on her bottom lip anxiously, a habit he can't remember her having. 

“Do you remember that time we were in California while you were on tour and we went hiking? You wanted to see the 'real California' and I said yes even though I hate shit like that. Remember how we stopped to take a rest on that rock cliff and I went to the edge to see how far up we were and … and the rock gave out a little underneath me? You grabbed me so fast I don't think I even realized I could've fallen until after the fact. Do you remember that?”

Harry just stares at her. Her voice is thin and weak like she's on the tail end of a nasty cold. But she doesn't look vulnerable, really. Her eyes are steady on him and there's a resoluteness in the way she's holding herself that is very much a part of her personality.

“Yeah,” he replies when he's able to. “You scared the shit out of me. I thought you were going to fall.”

“You were always doing that, you know,” Louis says. “It was never like – a big deal when it happened, but you were always making sure I wasn't getting myself hurt. And I know that it was like a second job, being with me. I know I was a handful.”

Harry's hand are trembling; he shoves them into his pockets to hide it. 

“I need you to do it one more time,” Louis continues. “I need you to stop me from making one more foolish decision.”

“I don't … what do you need me to do?” Harry chokes out, shaking his head.

Louis unfolds her arms and raises her left hand so that the back of it is facing Harry. He hasn't seen it up close yet, only in grainy tabloid photos and briefly in a picture Zayn posted on Facebook, but now he has a perfectly good look at it. It's intricate, one of those rings with a huge, beautifully cut diamond surrounded by smaller ones. It screams _money_. And it looks enormous on her small hand. 

“I'm making a huge mistake, aren't I?” she asks, keeping her hand up. 

Harry doesn't know what to say. There's a pleading look in Louis' eyes and he wants so badly to do whatever it is she's asking him to do, but he just doesn't _understand_ what it is that she needs from him. They've been broken up for what feels like ages and even though she's still an extension of him to an extent, he doesn't know how to properly navigate this interaction. She feels like a stranger. 

“Lou – Louis – I don't know what it is you're asking from me.”

“If I told you that I would take off this ring and end things with Niall, what would you do?” Louis asks. 

Harry freezes up again, mouth agape. _What?_ She's been with Niall for about six months now, and they've already announced that their wedding will be next July. None of this makes sense. 

“I would … I don't know! I'd do nothing, probably. Maybe sit on my couch and feel selfishly happy?” In his confusion, he's blatantly honest.

Louis smiles far brighter than before. And she's dazzling, beautiful even with bags under her eyes and chapped lips and holes in the knees of her jeans. Harry's heart, stomach, _whatever_ clenches painfully. Because contrary to what he's been telling everyone since the break-up, he's never gotten over Louis. But he's learned to live with it like a sore shoulder or a rotting tooth. 

He watches as she begins to wiggle the ring off of her finger, yanking it over a knuckle before finally prying it loose. She stands there, holding it her palm and looks at it for a while. He can tell that she's thinking through what she's just done. But then she looks up again, and there's an unfaltering firmness in her eyes.

“I think it's my turn to apologize,” she says. “I'm sorry I blew everything out of proportion. I'm sorry for cutting you out of my life. I'm sorry I never gave you another chance. But mostly I want to apologize to the both of us for thinking that I could get be happy with someone else.”

Harry's positive that he's not having an allergic reaction to whatever he'd had for lunch but his throat is closing up and he's finding it rather difficult to properly breathe. He'd imagined them reconciling, of course, many times. But this is beyond any dramatic, sappy scenario he'd ever come up with. 

“We were good together.” Harry is about ready to keel over from lack of oxygen. “Everyone said so. I think they meant it. Do you?”

Harry nods to Louis' question, physically unable to vocalize his agreement. She laughs and the skin around her eyes crinkle. She sets the ring down on the table and then approaches him, striding over to him with clear intent. He watches her coming nearer; there's blood rushing in his ears so loud it's like he's standing under the fucking Niagara Falls. She stops within arms length, head tilted to the side a bit.

“Do you still want me around, then? I've yet to find out if you can actually ever get sick of me.”

And for the first time since Louis had come through his door, Harry smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, probably made mistakes and all that, but hopefully it was still readable!


End file.
